Ha ha ha.  This one is pretty good.  Of course, there was a time when 8 Bit meant pixilated hell.  Now it is somehow cool.  If you don't believe it check out this 8 Bit Dr. Horrible.  Funny, but I don't want to look at it all day.

I guess it's a sign of either the messed up childhood I had or the fact that kids today are over protected, but as a child I remember many a day mixing up our own Molotov cocktails and using them in this blind canyon to burn boxes, bushes, or anything else that looked remotely flammable.  In the interest of not getting arrested I won't share any of our old recipes, but let's just say we did it enough to experiment with different mixes.  

I think it fair to say we burned a lot of stuff as kids.  Most of our parents smoked, so getting a hold of lighters or matches was not much of a challenge.  I don't think I will be linking how-to-make instructions on a lot of these mainly because most of our childhood was spent in an unsupervised state of self destruction and I don't want to feel even marginally responsible for someone hurting themselves.  However, in time we played with flaming hand soap, spud guns, aerosol can flamethrowers, flaming tennis ball cannons, Molotov cocktails, bottle rockets, cherry bombs, M80's, M1000's, firecrackers, idiot chasers, roman candles, and on one weird day that we all swore never to speak of, homemade plastique.  The only difference between the  4th of July and a typical summer afternoon for us was on the 4th we would use fireworks that were considered Safe and Sane.  

I remember with particular fondness a day when we were all playing with aerosol can flamethrowers and my best enemy, Mark, shot one into a tin can, causing the flames to blow back into his face.  He didn't get injured (we were all freakishly lucky in that regard) but managed to singe off his eyebrows.  Let's just say the next couple months were socially painful for him ("Hey, it's Captain No-Brow!").

By the way, I am in no way endorsing any kind of inflammatory behavior.  In retrospect we were insanely lucky and should probably have been killed any number of times (or horribly burned).  I'm being totally serious now.  Don't do it.  

In case you were curious, Vyacheslav Mikhailovich Molotov is the man the Molotov cocktail is named after.  He was a Soviet statesman, second in command to Jospeh Stalin, and considered by most to be kind of a dick.  He was one of the principal guys making the Great Terror happen, which is considered the worlds first gendercide, as it was mostly men who were rounded up and killed.  Personally, I think my dating life might be a lot easier if there were less men around, but I don't think this would be the way to reach that promised land.  Finnish soldiers used Molotov cocktails a lot, and named them after Molotov as a joke and it stuck.

Naturally, Molotov Cocktail is some kind of funk band out of New York City.  Listen if you like.  I didn't.

Molotov’s is also a hipster bar on Lower Haight in San Francisco that I walk by all the time (it is right down the street from my favorite Ethiopian restaurant).  If you like bad haircuts, ride around on a scooter, and dress like a flood victim from the 70's in spite of making six figures in technology this is the place for you.  However, in my mind it is one of those places deserving of a Molotov.  You won't catch me there.

That being said, now I feel a burning (haw!) desire to check the place out.  Who knows?  Maybe I am about to enter my inevitable hipster phase.  I don't think I'm skinny enough.  Maybe I'll check out that place next weekend.

Dave
September 21st, 2010